Dairy Queen's Got Our Number

This is one of the most realistic commercials I've ever seen.

I have absolutely zero doubt that the moment easy, cheap cloning becomes available to the masses, Americans will use this amazing breakthrough in science to invent copies of ourselves, which will in turn allow us to perform multiple pointless, time-sucking and health-injuring "tasks" at the same time.

The average American will have a clone who will do nothing but text and blather commands into his I Phone all day. Another will stare at his television, developing callouses on his thumbs as he jumps from one brain-dead sitcom to the next (when we learn how to clone our televisions, we'll be able to watch everything at the same time, and won't that be wonderful?)

None of our clones will ever do anything productive (after all, they are supposed to be perfect copies of ourselves, right?) They'll spend all their time slacking off at the office, muttering "so forty-two seconds ago" and playing Angry Birds while reminding themselves that it's not the one day of the week that they all shave yet.

Oh, and each and every one of our clones will have the same taste in food. How awesome will it be when one of us decides to go to Dairy Queen and we don't have to give up the Cici's, Golden Corral and KFC experiences? When we no longer have to make that agonizing choice between the Double Down Chicken "sandwich" and the All You Can Eat Endless Pizza Buffet? When we are really in the mood for a bacon cheeseburger, but man that other place has that Chocolate Wonderfall thingee and all meatloaf you can choke on.

And later, Maybe we can all get rooms on the same floor of the same hospital when we all suffer identical heart attacks (after spending years sharing the same prescriptions for medication to manage our diabetes, of course?)

Congratulations to Dairy Queen for cutting through the crap and allowing us to accept ourselves for what we really are- a nation of fat, sweaty loafers looking for the next excuse to avoid doing something worth doing, the next plate of warm garbage to shovel into our faces, and a quiet place to die. Someone had to do it; might as well be the good people at DQ.

If you're so great, Citi, why didn't you invent Sun Chips or Double-Stuff Oreos? Oh wait, maybe you did...

Wow, this is so embarassing. I'm a high school US history teacher; more than that, I'm an Advanced Placement US History teacher. I've been teaching this subject for seventeen years. I'm even one of the 1200 teachers who travel to Louisville, Kentucky every June to grade the million-plus essays written for the AP Exam. When I was a little kid, I'd grab an old textbook and sit with it under a tree for hours, soaking up as much history as I could. For fun. I can't remember a time when I did not love to read about the past.

And yet, I never picked up how Citibank was always at the center of it all. According to this ad, pretty much everything of any significance that has taken place in this nation since 1812 happened by the grace of Citibank. The Trans-Atlantic cable. The Panama Canal. The Marshall Plan. ATMs. The collapse of the Berlin Wall. All made possible, somehow, through the auspices of a massive, money-grubbing, blood-splattered corporate monster which I suspected all along ruled the world in partnership with Queen Elizabeth, the Masons and the Trilateral Commission but, as it turns out, was doing it all by themselves.

I'm certain that the long version of this commercial reveals that Citibank also brought us Currier and Ives prints, the telephone, roller coasters and transparent cola. Not to mention the Titanic, bobbed hair, hula hoops, lava lamps and two Gulf Wars. And I'm sure Citibank being responsible for the assassinations of Lincoln and Kennedy, and the Area 51 cover-up, were the first clips to hit the cutting room floor.

Thanks for humbling my pride, Citibank. I had no idea how little I really knew about history. No wonder my kids don't do so well on the AP exam. It's too late to undo past damage, but next year I'm going to end each lecture with "...of course, Citibank was primarily responsible for all this..."

The Marshall Plan and ATMs. Seriously amazing.

And if you have Direct TV, you get subjected to stupid crap like this

"When you have cable and there's nothing on, you get depressed."

Hopefully, you "get depressed" not because there's nothing on, but because you realize that your happiness depends on being able to sit on your ass watching television.

"When you go to seminars, you feel like a winner."

Sounds like a darned good seminar. But of course, this is Teh Evil to Direct TV, which only wants you to be happy while you are becoming part of your couch, developing callouses on your fingers from lovingly stroking your remote (I mean that thing with buttons that controls the tv- what is with your disgusting mind these days?)

"When you feel like a winner, you go to Vegas..."

Really? People who feel fulfilled and happy go to Vegas and gamble? Never knew this. I thought that those who went to Vegas to gamble were either comfortably well-off people who saw gambling as a form of recreation or entertainment, or sad losers addicted to a lifestyle that was sucking them dry. I never associated gambling with feeling "like a winner." I learn something new every day.

"When you go to Vegas, you lose everything."

Eh, maybe. Most people who go to Vegas certainly do lose, but the vast majority don't lose "everything." I imagine that the Vegas Chamber of Commerce will be having a word with Direct TV in the very near future.

Anyway, this all boils down- again- to reminding us that our lives are certain to spiral out of control if we don't invest in Direct TV. Because all good things come from watching the time-sucking idiot box- obesity, social isolation, dulled imagination, etc.

I have a different take: If you have Direct TV, you waste your life sitting in your dark living room watching crap. If you waste your life sitting in your dark living room watching crap, you don't get outside and get exercise and make friends. If you don't get outside and get exercise and make friends, your life isn't worth preserving, and might as well be wasted watching television.

Waste your life watching television. Get Direct TV.

AT&T, 4G and Facebook- your recipe for a lot of lonely weekends

Let's cut to the chase right off the bat- the day I sit down with a speed date who instantly begins to compare what I say about myself to what my Facebook status says about myself is the day I get up from the table and walk away. Because why do I want to spend more than five seconds with this freakishly paranoid, judgmental weirdo who doesn't get that the only attractive thing about "speed dating" and "It's Just Lunch" is that they give you a license to blatantly lie your butt off about yourself- if this gets at all serious, we can start amending the mountain of manure you buried your date with in order to make a first good impression at that time. If it doesn't go beyond that first encounter, well, nothing lost, right?

Let me amend that first paragraph. The day I find myself speed dating, I'm just going to go home and cry myself to sleep anyway. And not because I'm afraid that someone I meet speed dating is going to check my Facebook status while I'm trying to introduce myself, because I don't HAVE a Facebook status (someone took care of that- you know who you are...) It's more because...well, jeesh. Speed dating? Really?

Anyway, is this REALLY an advertisement for AT&T's 4g connectivity network whatsamahoee whateveritis? Seems to me like its more of a "stop putting every stupid character flaw on the internet for the world to snark on, idiots, unless of course you WANT to be laughed at on the off chance that you ever actually meet someone you might like to get to know outside of a chat room" public service announcement than a commercial for anything.

And if you insist on putting your profile on line, at LEAST make up crap about yourself that might actually attract pretty, intelligent girls you'd actually enjoy being with. Like having multiple degrees and belonging to National Honors Societies and running for Congress and being a successful High School teacher (assuming that there are people out there who think that the words "successful" and "High School teacher" go together.) You know, sweet, innocent BS like that. Don't show your dark side- that will become starkly obvious anyway, probably before the dessert arrives (hey, I'm starting to see an upside to this whole "speed date" thing.)

Come to think of it, if you are willing to date techno-addled jerks who insist on researching your life while they are sitting at the fricking table with you, maybe none of this matters anyway. Just bring your own 4G phone, so you can respond by sniggering at her High School yearbook picture and her inferior-looking Facebook "friends." Or bring the report you printed up from eVerify.com-- "yeah, ok, so I totally invented my online profile- at least I'm not a serial killer wanted in five states. Now that we've cut through the crap, what are you doing next Friday?"

The New I Pad: It's nice to see all those teen-aged Chinese girls didn't die in vain

Here, stare at this thing for a while.

And "by a while," we mean- for the rest of your life. Just look at this. Watch movies on it. Play games on it. Store photos on it- and constantly adjust those photos by rubbing your fingers on it's screen. Make them smaller, then make them bigger. Now, make them smaller again. Adjust their colors. Check your Facebook status. Hey, have you played Angry Birds in the past half hour? Do that. Check your Facebook status again. Watch another movie.

Pretend you have some artistic talent by rubbing your finger on the screen after opening a "paint" program. Now you can be an "artist" in the same way that Guitar Hero once made you a "musician." Don't forget to check those photos again- they remind you that you once had a "life." Back when you needed one- during those dark days before you got yourself a new I Pad.

Get directions to the other side of town. Now, get directions to the train that will take you to the other side of town. Make sure those directions are turn-by-turn, so you can walk down the street to the train without having to look up. Download an App that lets you buy your train ticket by waving this thing at a machine at the station. As soon as you sit down on the train, check your Facebook status again. Play Angry Birds. Work on your "art" some more. Watch another movie- don't worry about attaching headphones. There are probably other people on the train- don't look up to find out though- but I'm sure they won't mind hearing the movie right along with you. How's that photo collection holding out?

The New I Pad: Because when a screen becomes this good, why ever look up? This screen is so good, it brings you closer to the things you love; for instance, your new I Pad. See how nicely this all comes together?

Let me see if I've got this right, Taco Bell

Taco Bell introduced some Dorito/Taco Hybrid thing in "just a few cities," cruelly denying it to classless, tasteless trailer trash who think this junk is worth eating.

Matt and his friends were so obsessed with shoveling this crap into their cake holes that they drove 900 miles in a 1970 Plymouth wagon to find a Taco Bell "restaurant" participating in this limited time offer. In keeping with the whole Retro mood of the advertisement, Matt and his friends didn't find the store using a talking GPS App on their Smart Phones- nope, they struggled with an old fashioned gas station map. Aww, these kids are such throwbacks, aren't they?

Let's hope that driving an ancient car and using laughably outdated navigation technology also allowed them to experience equally antiquated gas prices. I'm trying to imagine how much it would cost to haul this boat 900 miles at four bucks a gallon.

Or how many days it would take. Or why these loathsome slacker idiots have so much free time on their hands that they can devote a week to traveling halfway across the country to pick up a bag of greasy meat packaged in over-sized snack chips.

Coming next: Matt and his friends drive a 1969 Volkswagen Bus to Saskatchewan for half a dozen McRib sandwiches and St Patrick's Day milkshakes. Because they aren't available any closer to the suburb he and his fellow knobs currently occupy. Personally, I'd prefer that they undertake the journey in a Corvair. Step on the gas, kids- it's safe at any speed!

We've all encountered this woman, and mentally brained her with her own pocketbook

I recognize the woman in this ad.

That's not saying much, of course. I'm sure we all recognize her. In fact, anyone who has ever been to a grocery store recognizes this woman. We've all been behind her in line.

She's the Woman Who Isn't Quite Done Shopping But Is At The Cashier Anyway. She's decided to try to save some time by beginning the checkout process while an accomplice finds that One or Two or Six Last Few Things which will eventually join the rest of her pile on the conveyor belt. And if that person doesn't show up when the other stuff has been scanned and bagged? No problem- she'll just wait, glancing back and forth, standing on her toes for effect, shrugging at the cashier with an "I'm sure he'll be here any second now" look on her stupid face.

Here, the woman we all recognize has made the especially brilliant decision to use an eight-year old girl as her partner in crime. Daughter has helpfully been told to get some Yoplait. She's not given any specifics- just "one of each." Gee, that's nice- I'm sure Mommy expected this kid to handle every fricking cup of yogurt in the damned store looking for different flavors, leaving a delightful mess behind for the next customer (or a store employee*) to clean up. Mommy doesn't send Daughter with a basket, either- so Daughter has been told to come back with an armful of individual yogurt cups, each of a different flavor, and don't worry about dropping a few on the way (that's what aforementioned store employee is for, after all.)

I guess the "joke" here is that Mommy has no idea how many flavors Yoplait offers. As it turns out, we've moved beyond Strawberry, Strawberry-Banana, and Vanilla, and despite the fact that Mommy is a fan of Yoplait, she didn't even notice. I guess she figured Daughter would come back with three cups of yogurt and that would be that.

Mommy also figured that the people standing behind her would have absolutely no problem with her stunningly selfish, "my time is so much more important than your time" attitude. Maybe that's because Mommy is the only f--ing person in the whole f---ing universe, and TS for any of us who made the silly decision to finish shopping before getting on the f--ing line.

We all know this is going to end with Mommy either writing a check (and balancing her checkbook right there, while standing in front of the cashier) or picking change out of her purse- after remembering that oh yes, she has a coupon for Yoplait, somewhere in there.....

*I spent three years working in the dairy department of a Wegmans in Upstate New York. I know what kind of damage jackasses like this can do to stacks of yogurt without even trying- though I'm sure that when I was working, they were always trying. I hope those people are all dead now.